Playbook (The Holland Brothers 2)

Coach is pissed, Archer signs without speaking.

I nod my agreement as I chug water and try to catch my breath at the same time. I’m sweating out the shots from last night. I don’t know if it’s my imagination or if I can actually still smell the tequila leaving my body.

One of the other rookies got cut yesterday and we went out last night to cheer him up. I hadn’t meant to stay as long as I did, or drink as much. But I felt for the guy. He worked as hard as the rest of us and then poof, it was all just gone.

Like I’m gonna be if I don’t manage to find a second wind during the last thirty minutes of practice.

Showing up late was my first fuckup of the day. Archer normally would have woken me in time if I overslept, but he had to be here earlier than me so he assumed I had alarms set. Which I did. A dozen of them. But then I forgot to plug in my phone before I fell asleep.

Coach isn’t an idiot. He knows why I’m late and dragging ass, and he’s just riding me even harder. We jumped right into a scrimmage this morning and he’s got the best defensive men coming after me hard. I have to show him I can take it.

“Six! You’re so slow off the snap, my granddaughter could tackle you.”

Nobody laughs, but I catch Cody’s disapproving gaze. Fuck.

“Sorry, Coach,” I manage to wheeze out.

“Don’t be sorry. Get your ass to bed at a decent time tonight. Goddamn rookies partying all fucking night,” he mumbles. “All right, men.” His deep voice bellows. “Let’s stop there.”

Oh thank God. My shoulders relax.

“Everyone to the end zone for sprint and stride intervals.” He lifts his right hand and points with an open palm like a ref would.

There’s a collective groan, but we all hurry to obey. Our conditioning coach walks behind us with a whistle to lead the drill and Coach heads off the field. But as he does, I swear he looks right at me like he wants me to know this is all my doing.

After practice I hit the training room and do some stretching and roll out my calves. One of the new trainers, Libby, spots me as she passes by the room and then doubles back to come say hi. She and a few of the other trainers were with us last night. I can’t remember how late she stayed, but she doesn’t look like it was as late as I did.

“Tough practice?” she asks as she moves closer.

“Brutal,” I admit, standing. “I think I finally sweated out all the tequila though.”

Her laughter makes my headache worse. “You should have left with me. I told you that you’d regret it.”

Right. Now I remember. She tried to get me to leave with her last night. I’m not sure if she was looking out for me or asking to get naked, but now as she rests a hand on my forearm and then glides it up to my bicep, I think it’s pretty clear.

Libby takes a step closer, and the smell of her perfume hits my nose, making my stomach roil. It also makes me think of London and her claim that all my admirers wear cheap, old lady perfume.

I smile, and Libby must take that as an invitation because the next thing I know she’s rising up on her toes and pressing her mouth to mine.

Worth noting, I stink. I haven’t even showered yet, and as previously mentioned, I sweated out a bottle of tequila.

I’m too shocked to reciprocate or do anything. The next thing I know someone nearby is clearing their throat, and I come to my senses.

Libby steps back, taking her scent with her, and it clears my head enough that I look to the doorway where Cody and Coach are standing.

Fuck me.

Libby flushes and then scurries off. Wish I could do the same.

I open my mouth to tell my coach that it wasn’t what it looked like, but he holds up a hand to stop me.

I don’t know if it’s expressly against the rules to hook up with someone that works here, but I never would. A second longer and I would have stopped her. I think I would have anyway.

“Six, is your dick going to keep causing problems for you this season?” Coach asks, hands on his hips.

“No, sir.”

“I’ve cut a lot of talented young players that couldn’t keep their head when they got to the league. I hope you won’t be the next.”

I swallow thickly. Before I can comment, he turns and leaves. His sneakers squeak down the hallway. Cody walks into the room while I sit down on a weight bench. I feel like I might throw up all over again.

“Seriously, rookie?”

“She hit on me. What was I supposed to do? I’m a likable guy. I know you aren’t familiar with that,” I tease. He cuts me a glare that proves my point. Women don’t hit on him because he’s a wall of indifference.

“You could start with not kissing her in the middle of the freaking weight room, maybe?”

“She kissed me.” I groan.

“Coach doesn’t give a shit about your excuses. You need to get it together before he decides you’re a liability.”

With those sweet, charming words, he leaves me too.

I take a minute to collect myself and then head to the locker room. Archer is waiting for me.

“You cool?” he asks.

I nod. “Yeah.”

“You want to grab lunch?”

My stomach twists and growls at the same time. “Yeah, but something light.”

“So no tequila shots?” He bites his bottom lip as he fights a smile.

Fucker.

“You’re lucky that Wren was with you or you would have been shit-faced too.” He took this new girl he’s been seeing out for the second time in a week. I think that’s a record. She seems cool enough. She’s hot and nice and all that, I’m just not sure she’s as into my buddy as she is hanging out with professional athletes.

But Arch isn’t an idiot. If he’s cool with that, then so am I. And it kept his ass out of trouble last night so there’s that.

“Maybe I need a girlfriend,” I say, feeling about a hundred years old. I could have ducked out early, spent the night in my bed with a gorgeous woman. Archer might be on to something.

He laughs loudly, head falling back as he shuts his locker. “That’s funny.”

Shouldering his bag, he pauses as I stand there staring at him. One brow rises. “You’re serious?”

“Well, I was, but your reaction is offensive. I could have a girlfriend.”

“You haven’t had a girlfriend since high school and that lasted, what, two months?”

“That’s because you’re my one true love,” I tell him, joking but also not. I’ve never met anyone that I like spending time with more than Archer. Casual has always been the best compromise because, well, sex. I love my buddy, but I don’t want to fuck him.

“Same, but I’m not going out with you.”

“You’d be so lucky,” I tell him.

“Speaking of chicks, whatever happened with that girl from the club you invited to the game? London.”

“We texted back and forth the other night, but I think the whole women sending panties to me through the mail thing scared her off.”

“No?” He gasps dramatically. Fucker. His lips curl into a smile. “Wren has some friends. Want me to ask her to set something up? We could double-date.”

“Nah.” I shake it off. “I’ll be fine. I just need to stay out of trouble.”

How hard could that be?